by Amy Andrews
Angela opened a pre-packaged trauma pack and poured sterile saline onto the large white hanky-sized sponges. Carrie snapped on the sterile gloves Angela opened and placed two of them over the hole, gently tucking them inside.
‘Pressure?’ Carrie asked as she watched the packs turn red instantly.
‘Holding at ninety,’ Angela confirmed. ‘Here, put this sterile towel over the wound.’ Angela passed her a sterile green towel. Carrie draped the hole and Angela taped the towel to the skin.
‘Pity we don’t carry any S8s. He could do with some pain relief,’ Angela commented over the loud moans of the patient’s distress.
Carrie nodded. That was one of the many proposals in Charlie’s expansion plans for the centre. The ones she was going to dash. ‘His blood pressure’s probably a little dicey anyway.’
The wailing of a siren grew louder and Carrie realised she’d been so focused on stabilising the teenager that she’d tuned everything else out. She’d been like a machine. Like she’d been doing this all her life. Like she’d never stopped.
‘I’ll direct them in,’ Angela said, removing her gloves.
Charlie was a hundred metres away when the ambulance whizzed passed him, its siren blaring, and braked outside the drop-in centre. He threw his sandwich in a nearby bin and ran. What the hell had happened?
He skidded to a halt as Angela emerged from the centre. ‘What happened?’ he demanded.
‘Gunshot wound to the abdomen,’ Angela told him calmly.
‘Carrie?’
Angela nodded. ‘Handled it like a pro.’ She turned to brief the paramedics walking with them inside as she spoke.
He burst into the treatment room. Carrie had her back to the door and a stethoscope in her ears and didn’t hear him enter.
Charlie touched her shoulder. ‘Carrie?’
She turned. ‘Oh…hi. Blood pressure’s up to one hundred,’ she said, diverting her gaze from Charlie’s worried face to the paramedics striding through the door.
Charlie stood back and watched in awe as Carrie gave a concise handover. ‘I think he’s just a scoop and go, guys. He’s going to need Theatre, stat. He’s actively bleeding in there somewhere.’
Five minutes later they had the patient loaded and were departing. Angela, Charlie and Carrie watched it disappear from view.
‘Good job, Dr Douglas,’ Angela said as she turned and headed back into the clinic.
Carrie stared after her, open-mouthed. Dr Douglas?
Charlie whistled. ‘High praise, indeed, Dr Douglas.’
Carrie shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight as she looked up into his face. It seemed she had come full circle in Angela’s eyes. In Charlie’s eyes. She had earned her stripes. Earned herself the right to the title Doctor. She had saved the teenager’s life.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
Carrie thought about it for a moment. Remarkably, she was. In fact, the thrill of having taken control and saved her patient’s life was elating. Pushing papers around a desk never gave her this kind of buzz. She nodded. ‘Yes, I am, actually. I haven’t felt this OK for a long time.’
Charlie smiled. He lifted his hand and stroked his knuckles down her cheek. He pulled her into his shoulder for a lingering hug. ‘Come on,’ he said, his arm around her as he moved inside. ‘You’d better go and change your shirt.’
Carrie looked down and noticed a blood stain the size of a grapefruit on her silky purple blouse. She should have worn an apron.
‘I can help you with that if you like,’ he murmured.
Carrie smiled and then stopped, her euphoria fading as she remembered that she was about to put Charlie out of business. ‘Thanks. I can manage.’
Carrie opened the staffroom door and wandered over to the table. Her laptop hummed quietly, a stack of papers waiting for her attention next to it. She picked the top sheet up and looked at it. A bank reconciliation.
‘Here you go,’ Charlie said from halfway down the hallway. ‘It’s not silk and it’ll be miles too big, but it’ll do.’
Carrie accepted the shirt without even glancing at it. She sat down at the table.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked. She was quiet suddenly and seemed pensive. Was it a delayed reaction? Was she about to hyperventilate?
‘I don’t want to do this any more.’ Carrie picked up another sheet of paper and tossed it in the air. She wished she hadn’t taken this job. But, then, she never would have met Charlie. Never would have had her eyes open to the fact that she was doctor. Not a manager.
Charlie’s eyes followed the lazy fall of the paper. What did she mean? ‘Careful. I know the lady that owns them and they’re probably in order.’
Carrie smiled. ‘It felt amazing just now. I mean, I was terrified to start with, I was frantic to have you by my side, but…we were it. Me and Angela. And I couldn’t let another boy die. And it all came back to me.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, Carrie. The other boy. He was taken away from the hospital before you had a chance to examine him properly.’
She nodded. ‘I know that…I do, really, but…I’ve had that image of him in my head for so long now. The white sheets…the red blood…his dead-looking eyes. But today’s changed everything. I have a new image. Of me. As a doctor. I know I certainly can’t go back to this.’ Carrie placed her hand on the paperwork.
Charlie felt a surge of relief wash over him. He’d always known there was a doctor inside her, fighting to get out. ‘Bravo.’ He smiled. ‘I know a certain drop-in centre that desperately needs a female doctor. Especially one who’s good with figures.’
Carrie felt her heart slam against her ribs. Her fingers felt dead and heavy suddenly against the pile of paper. He had offered her something she’d wanted since childhood and had convinced herself it hadn’t mattered that she hadn’t had it—a gig in community medicine.
Tell him. She should tell him. He’d given her the perfect opportunity. But she couldn’t. Not today. She’d just saved a life and she didn’t want to besmirch it with bottom-line stuff.
‘I may just take you up on that.’
CHAPTER NINE
CARRIE drove to the clinic on Monday morning knowing that today was the day. It wasn’t fair to put it off any longer. She’d been over and over the figures all weekend and no matter how much she tried to present them in a good light, the truth was inescapable. The Valley Drop-In Centre was not financially viable.
It gave her a chill, just thinking about it. Charlie would be devastated. The centre was everything to him. She was so not looking forward to the conversation she needed to have with him first thing this morning.
Part of her wanted to chicken out. Leave the dirty work up to the board. Have the news arrive in one of those awful official yellow envelopes. But she knew she owed him more than that.
She couldn’t believe how much could change in a few short weeks. How much this assignment had affected her entire life. Before coming to the centre, she wouldn’t have thought twice about getting rid of something that wasn’t performing. It was, after all, taxpayers’ money they were playing with, entrusted with—serious stuff. And it wasn’t their place to waste it willy-nilly.
But trying to justify a venture like this on paper just didn’t take into account the human aspect. What the centre meant to the community it supported and what it would mean if it wasn’t around any longer. Whatever happened, she was going to make sure she stressed that in her final report.
But the real reason it was ripping her heart out was much more depressing. She had fallen in love with Charlie. The revelation had come last night as she’d been putting Dana to bed. Her daughter had hugged her and whispered, ‘I wish Charlie could be my daddy.’
And it had hit her. She wished he could be, too. Wished it had been Charlie and not Rupert who had fathered Dana. The truth had only depressed her further. She loved him. She wanted him by her side. Always. In her bed. In her life. In her heart.
She shook herself as she stopped at a red light. Why
? Why had she risked her heart on someone else who was reluctant to be a father to Dana? She’d never asked to feel like this. Never expected to feel like this. Didn’t want to feel like this.
Since everything had fallen apart five years ago she hadn’t even entertained such fanciful expectations. She’d had Dana, who gave her indescribable joy, and her career. Work, Dana, work, Dana. It may have been soulless but she’d been…content.
Maybe she’d just settled as a way to punish herself for Harry’s death or for her naïvety over Rupert. Maybe it had been a way of protecting herself from further emotional trauma. Whatever it was, Charlie had turned it all upside down. He’d given her back her soul.
But more than that, he had given medicine back to her. The excitement she’d once felt at the prospect of helping sick people get better, of improving their quality of life or helping them to a dignified death. The thrill that came with the power to heal. The joy of knowing she was making a difference. No matter what happened after this morning, she was trading in her pinstripes for a white coat.
She parked her car as a swirl of emotions whirled in her head. A part of her wanted to throw caution to the wind and rush in head first. But the lessons of Rupert weren’t easily forgotten and she knew she had to be more responsible this time. It wasn’t just her future, her fate she had to decide on. There was an innocent four-year-old also involved.
Of course, after today it was probably all going to be moot anyway. Things seemed fairly insurmountable at the moment. Even if they did somehow manage to get past her part in the centre’s closure, there was the issue of Dana.
She couldn’t force Charlie to be a father to her daughter and he seemed to have it in his head that he wasn’t up to the job. Parental influences could be powerful and far-reaching—half the centre’s runaways were a perfect example of how not to parent. But it was obvious to anyone with the slightest vision that he was a natural with kids.
So how could she convince him he wasn’t like his father? And how, after her bombshell today, could she convince him to even listen?
Carrie heard voices from Charlie’s office as she swung by and she felt tension twist her stomach into another knot. She wanted to be anywhere but here today, doing this. She stood in front of his door, took a deep breath and poised her hand to knock.
‘Charles, you’re not seriously involved with that Carrie girl, are you?’
Carrie stopped before her knuckles hit the wood. His door wasn’t completely pulled to and she could hear the conversation easily. Was Charlie’s father with him?
‘What makes you think that?’ Charlie bounced a rubber ball against the wall as he lounged back in his chair. It hit the floor, hit the wall and returned to him in a perfect arc.
He’d learnt a long time ago to tune out during one of his father’s phone calls. Don’t react, don’t supply him with any ammunition—just say yes and no and give noncommittal grunts in the right places and get the hell off the line as fast as possible.
‘You missed Sunday lunch. Your mother was most upset.’
Charlie smiled. Playing hookey was the only thing that had improved his mood over the weekend. It had given him a brief respite from thoughts of Carrie. ‘Sorry.’
Carrie dropped her hand and leaned closer. No, she thought, there was too much of an echo. Charlie must have him on speakerphone.
‘You know she has an illegitimate child? That’s not really something we encourage in the Wentworth family.’
Carrie blinked. Illegitimate? Did anyone seriously use that word any more? Did anyone seriously care any more? She was beginning to see why Charlie and his father didn’t get on.
Charlie grimaced. Pompous ass. He was doing exactly what Charlie had known he’d do. Stick his nose into Carrie’s background to check out her pedigree. ‘She’s a friend, Dad, that’s all.’ Bounce. Bounce.
Carrie sucked in a breath. She was surprised how much Charlie’s dismissal of their relationship hurt. It shouldn’t, that’s what they’d agreed, after all. She should be happy that he was trying to stick to their deal. But the deal had come before her revelation. She knew now she could never just be friends with Charlie Wentworth.
‘You know Veronica was asking after you the other day?’
Carrie swallowed. She should stop. This was a private conversation and none of her business. But, try as she may, she couldn’t drag herself away.
‘Oh, yes?’ Charlie stifled a yawn. Bounce. Bounce.
Carrie felt her breath catch in her throat. He was interested?
‘Said she missed you.’
Bounce. Bounce. Charlie rolled his eyes. Hell—kill me now. ‘Really?’ He’d rather go without sex for another year.
Carrie swallowed. He was interested. There was a pain in her chest. He wanted his ex back?
‘Play your cards right and I’m sure she’d take you back.’
‘Really?’ Charlie said distractedly. Thoughts of sex had reminded him of how he had peeled Carrie’s clothes off with his teeth last weekend. Bounce. Bounce.
Carrie ordered herself to breathe. Which she did. She ordered herself to move. Which she did not. The conversation was horribly fascinating—like a motorway smash, gruesome but compelling.
‘What is that infernal noise, Charles?’
Charlie had had just about enough of the conversation. ‘Someone knocking at my door.’ I do work, Daddy, Dearest. ‘My first appointment for the day. I’d better go.’ Bounce. Bounce.
‘So you’ll apply for that surgical position, then?’
‘No.’ Charlie ended the call, pleased to have it over and done with. He checked his watch as he rose from his desk. Carrie was late. Maybe if he lurked by his doorway he could lure her inside.
He opened his door and jumped as he came face to face with her. The look on her face told him she had heard everything.
‘Hi,’ he said.
‘Hi.’
‘You heard that, didn’t you?’
Carrie nodded.
Charlie couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Her gaze seemed blank. She looked kind of frozen. That wasn’t good. ‘It probably didn’t sound too good from your side of the door.’
He reached out to touch her, to tell her it wasn’t what she’d thought, but she drew back.
Carrie felt her brain power up. ‘No…it’s fine. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been listening. It was none of my business.’
It was good that she’d overheard. To know that he hadn’t really got over his ex-wife. It made the conversation they had to have easier. It made their parting easier. And it didn’t matter that her heart was breaking. It was better to know now where she really stood in his life. Before she had too long to get used to loving him. Better to know before Dana got involved, too.
‘Let me explain,’ he said, taking another step towards her.
‘Charlie, really,’ Carrie said briskly. ‘This is unimportant. There’s something much more pressing I need to discuss with you.’ She turned on her heel and headed straight for the staffroom, placing her laptop on the table.
She paced while she waited for him. She hummed a nursery rhyme in her head, determined not to think about the conversation she’d just overheard. About her fledgling love being well and truly flattened. She had to get through this. Afterwards she could fall apart. She could cry and rail against the fates. Right now she had work to do.
Charlie entered and she looked at him and couldn’t decide what she wanted to do more—run to him or slap his face.
‘Shut the door,’ she ordered.
OK. This was bad. And he didn’t think it was about the phone call. She looked serious. Deadly serious. Her pinstripes had never looked primmer. He turned and did her bidding then faced her.
‘You’re closing the centre down.’
Carrie suppressed a gasp. She could see his jaw clench and unclench and guessed the calmness of his statement had cost him a lot.
She swallowed. ‘The centre is not viable. It will be my recommendation to the board th
at closure is the most expedient course of action.’
Charlie felt the burn of anger scorch his chest. ‘Expedient.’
Carrie flinched at the disgust in his voice. He repeated it as if it was the dirtiest word in the dictionary. She lifted her chin. ‘Yes. Expedient.’ To hell with him.
‘I thought you’d changed. I thought you’d started to see past the bottom line.’
His barb hit home. He knew she had. She had changed so much in her time there. But that didn’t alter the facts. ‘My job is to look after the hospital’s money.’
Charlie strode to the door and whipped it open. He pointed to the teenagers that were already lining up for their first game of pool. ‘What are these kids going to do? Where are they going to go?’
‘That data is not required by the board—’
‘Data?’ he interrupted furiously, slamming the door closed. ‘They’re people!’
Carrie swallowed. ‘Rest assured, as with any report, I will also state the reasons against closure, which will include those issues.’ Dear God, she sounded so pompous. So bureaucratic.
Charlie couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The centre was the heart and soul of this needy community. He couldn’t allow this to happen. It was madness. ‘Is this because of us?’
It took a brief moment for the full implications of his statement to sink in. ‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Well, let’s see. You haven’t mentioned a word to me once about the state of play and then this morning you overhear a phone call and now you’re shutting me down?’
Carrie felt herself stiffen. ‘I resent your inference. This was a professional investigation. What happened between us privately has absolutely no bearing on the outcome.’
‘You sure there isn’t a little vengeance in there, Carrie?’
She stared at him, at his indignation, and her heart ached. But she didn’t need to stick around and be insulted. Have her integrity called into question. She’d been down that road once in her professional career and had barely survived. She wasn’t about to let Charlie do it to her all over again.
